


All In! The World Figure Skating Championships!

by mrhd



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: After the Grand Prix Final, after Nationals, after Euros and Four Continents, there's the World Championships.





	1. World Championship Short Program!

The World Championships.

The first true test for them, in a way, Yuuri thinks. It’s time for Victor to prove that he can coach and compete at the same time, and time for Yuuri to prove that he can beat Victor.

Of course it starts with a hitch in the plan.

When they draw slots, a lack of luck has Yuuri taking the ice right after Victor. Which gives Victor no time to see him off or comfort him before his skate or anything.

Victor’s frowning about it, even as Yuuri tells him not to worry.

They’re about fifteen seconds from having an actual argument backstage at the World Championships when Yakov saves the day.

“Katsuki!” he shouts, startling both Yuuri and Victor into stillness. “They’re giving you an extra sixty seconds to get to your starting position after Vitya’s done, as he’s your coach.”

“Ah, um, thank you, Coach Feltsman,” Yuuri says, bowing.

Yakov waves it off and pokes Victor in the shoulder. “You should be the one on top of things like this, Vitya,” he says.

Victor ducks his head. “Yes,” he says.

Yuuri’s about to say something in Victor’s defense; he knows that Victor is hypersensitive to insults towards his coaching ability, but Yakov just shakes his head and says, “Idiot boy,” in what’s practically a fond tone.

“Yes,” Victor agrees again, this time with a smile.

“You know what you need to do, right?” Yakov says. “Or do you need a pep talk?”

Victor waves a nonchalant hand. “I’m fine, you can go fuss over Yura.”

Yakov huffs at him and rolls his eyes. But he does leave them alone and head off to where Yuri’s standing against the wall a few feet away.

Victor turns his full attention to Yuuri, smiling at him. As always, it’s overwhelming to have Victor’s attention like this. “Stretch with me?” he asks.

“Sure,” Yuuri agrees.

They sit down on the ground facing each other, and Yuuri lets Victor run through his stretches, mirroring him except when they pull on each other to get that extra bit of stretch. When they’re done and Yuuri is feeling pleasantly loose, Victor takes Yuuri’s hands in his. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” Yuuri says.

“Nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Too much so?”

“No.”

“You’ll get my attention if it starts getting bad, right?” Victor says, standing up and offering Yuuri a hand.

Yuuri takes it, even though the gesture is ridiculous. “I will,” he promises.

“Okay. I’m gonna run through my program,” Victor says taking several steps back to give him room and taking out his phone.

Yuuri nods at him and Victor slips in his earbuds and goes to work.

Yuuri can’t help but be fascinated by watching him prepare.

He’s seen countless videos of Victor backstage over the years, and he was beside him briefly at Euros, but this is different. At competitions Victor is usually completely focused on Yuuri, at least until Yuuri’s skated, and it’s sort of weird to see him mark out his program in the middle of the hallway, a look of concentration on his face and earphones in.

Yuuri has seen Victor dance out this program in their living room, in his pajamas, tripping over Makkachin and giggling. This is nothing like that. This is Victor Nikiforov, reigning, repeat World and Olympic Champion. The focus and intensity pouring off him is palpable. Yuuri’s been watching Victor win for years, and now he gets to watch him work every day; he knows how dedicated and determined Victor is. But this is a Victor who wants to win, a Victor who is preparing to fight for it.

Yuuri’s excited.

Next to him, Chris gives a low whistle.

When Yuuri looks at him, he winks. “Victor has a nice ass,” he says. “I’d ogle it too.”

Yuuri bites back a smile. Victor _does_ have a nice ass, and Yuuri _does_ appreciate it, but, “I wasn’t ogling.”

Chris grins at him. “You’re allowed to ogle your fiancé, you know.”

“I know. And I do,” Yuuri admits, fighting a blush. “But I really was just admiring his skating.”

Chris laughs, but it’s not mean. “Ah, Yuuri,” he says. “You really are Victor’s biggest fan, aren’t you? He’s not even on the ice.”

“You can still tell,” Yuuri says softly.

“He is talented,” Chris agrees. “And you’re in love.”

Yuuri shrugs. Both things are true even though Yuuri thinks he’d still be fascinated by Victor even if he weren’t also wearing his ring.

Victor looks up and when he catches Yuuri’s eye he smiles. He takes his earbuds out and comes over to Yuuri, resting his forearms on the wall next to him and stretching out his back. “Hi!” he says brightly.

“Oh, Victor, we were just talking about you!” Christophe teases.

“Really?” Victor says, grinning.

“Can you believe that Yuuri here was _not_ taking that opportunity to appreciate your ass?”

Victor gasps and then pouts dramatically. “Yuuri, you wound me.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and, after checking to make sure no one else is paying attention to the three of them, swats the aforementioned ass.

“Ooo, Yuuri,” Chris says, looking delighted. “How naughty.”

Victor doesn’t say anything, he just inhales sharply, unsteadily and then releases the breath is a stuttered rush.

 _Oh_ , Yuuri realizes when he sees Victor shut his eyes. _He_ liked _that_.

Yuuri freezes in place; surprised by his own reaction to Victor’s.

“Well,” Victor says, after several seconds of silence. “I was going to help psyche you up for your performance, but I think you’re already in the Eros mindset.” He grins, and the tension breaks.

“Mmm,” Yuuri agrees. “You have that effect on me.”

Outside, cheering for the previous skater starts up; he’s finished his skate.

Victor straightens up from the wall and takes Yuuri’s hand. “Ready?” he asks.

“Victor, it’s just the warm-up,” Yuuri says, but he lets Victor pull him along to the end of the tunnel anyways.

Victor bounces in place a bit as they wait for the event organizers to give them the go ahead. “I’m just excited to skate on the same ice as you,” he says, a tiny smile on his face.

It makes Yuuri feel warm inside, and he squeezes Victor’s hand. It should be a ridiculous statement; they skate together almost every day, either as coach and student or as a pair for their exhibitions or just as a couple, goofing around. But this is their first competition against one another, it feels different, and Yuuri’s grateful that Victor is excited to compete against him. It’s been Yuuri’s dream for a long time after all.

The coordinator beckons them forward and Yuuri smiles back at Victor, following him out.

* * *

_Now it’s time for the final group’s warm-up. And a very interesting group it is!_

_Yes, we’ve got ourselves a mix of rising stars and veterans alike. First up tonight, one of the veterans: Christophe Giacometti, of Switzerland. He was the silver medalist at this event last year, behind Russia’s Victor Nikiforov._

_Nikiforov who has won the last five world championships will be skating second tonight. He’s here trying to defend his title, after taking the first half of the season off to coach Yuuri Katsuki, of Japan._

_And that was sure a bit of a scandal, wasn’t it? Many people weren’t sure if he would be able to return to competition at all, much less do well._

_Especially because he’s staying on as Katsuki’s coach at the same time._

_Another scandal all by itself of course. Though there’s nothing strictly in the rules about it, people still raised protests over possible rigging and advantages for them over the rest of the field._

_I doubt there’s much of an advantage there, to be honest, coaching and skating are both full time jobs and I doubt he’s been able to devote as much to either of them as he would like._

_That hasn’t seemed to stop either of them though, Nikiforov and Katsuki both won their own nationals, and are the current European and Four Continents champions._

_Yes, Katsuki’s really seem to come into his own this season with that coaching change; he went from sixth in the Grand Prix Final last year and not even qualifying for Worlds to getting both a silver medal and a world record at the Grand Prix Final this season._

_He’s been continually topping his own personal bests, improving all season long. It’s been quite spectacular to watch._

_A gold here won’t be easy though. Skating after Katsuki is the other Russian, Yuri Plisetsky._

_Plisetsky’s medaled at every event he’s been to this season, and all of them have been silver, like at Europeans, or gold, at the Grand Prix Final._

_And all that in this, his first year at the senior level._

_He’ll be skating fourth tonight and will be followed by last year’s bronze medalist, Otabek Altin!_

_Altin is easily one of the most consistent skaters in the world; he medaled at both his Grand Prix events and got the silver at Four Continents._

_And skating last, but certainly not least here tonight, is Thailand’s Phichit Chulanont._

_Another skater who’s really come into his own this year, taking gold at Skate China, and qualifying for the Grand Prix Final for the first time. Like Katsuki, he’s been topping his own personal bests continually all season. I say it would be a mistake to count him out of medal contention. What type of skates will tonight bring us? I can’t wait to see._

* * *

As first up after the warm-up Chris doesn’t leave the ice, instead leaning on the boards nodding as his coach talks to him.

Yuuri gives him a thumbs-up and a good luck as he skates past, stepping off the ice. Victor takes his elbow gently in one hand and gives him his blade guards with the other. Victor smiles at him and tugs him a little bit away, out of view of the rink and the cameras.

“You’re going to be fantastic,” he says, kissing Yuuri quickly. “Don’t overthink it, just feel the program and you’ll nail it.”

Yuuri nods. He can feel the competition anxiety creeping up on him, but he battles it back. This is his first time competing against Victor since his failure in Sochi, and he’s determined to make it count. Over Victor’s shoulder Yuuri can see Yakov glaring at Victor, probably waiting for Victor to finish with Yuuri so he can give Victor his own pep talk. “Give me something to beat,” he tells Victor.

“Oh, I intend to,” Victor says, eyes glinting. He steals another quick, hard kiss before they both head back out to watch the end of Chris’ program.

Victor goes to Yakov, who takes his jacket from him and starts talking quickly and under his breath in Russian at him. Victor nods as he stretches out his limbs. Yuuri hangs back just a bit; he wants to watch Victor skate, up close and personal, and he’s next after him anyways.

Chris skates well; sexual as always and the audience applauds loudly for him. Chris takes his bows, sweeping a bouquet of roses off the ice as the gifts start pouring down. He gets off the ice and Victor gets on.

Yuuri steps closer now, invading his and Yakov’s little bubble.

Yakov grumbles but Victor looks delighted, and then even more so when Yuuri takes his hand in his and kisses his ring.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yakov tells Victor, in English now so he clearly doesn’t mind that Yuuri is there. “But you’re better than ever. Skate like it.”

Victor nods and pushes off the boards, arms out to the crowd as he skates to center ice.

The crowd goes wild for him as Victor takes his starting pose, kissing his ring before he settles into it properly. It takes several seconds for the cheers and applause to die down so Victor can actually start his program.

Yuuri’s been watching Victor skate for almost half his life. Victor, sixteen and beautiful, had stunned him the very first time Yuuri had seen him. He’s never stopped taking Yuuri’s breath away, and the first time he’d seen Victor skate live he had found it hard to breathe. He’s been seeing Victor skate up close and personal now for a bit less than a year, and Yuuri still thinks he’s enthralling and beautiful. Especially like this; in full competition mode. Victor is stunning. His short program is a whirlwind, faster and more energetic than Victor normal softer, more romantic style. This is something sexier, almost an answer to Yuuri’s Eros. And Victor looks good, his pale skin and hair contrasting with the black costume, shot through by long, sweeping curves of a deep red. It draws the eye in when Victor spins and curves around the ice. Yuuri knows that this was intentional, to draw attention to the increased intricacy in Victor’s choreography and precision in his spins. He credits Yuuri for both whenever he’s asked about it. Yuuri says that it’s ridiculous, clearly Victor had been getting level fours on his spins long before Yuuri. But Victor insists upon it, and cites the fact that Yakov hardly yells about his spins anymore as proof.

Today, Victor is flying. Soaring into his jumps with ease, gliding across the ice like it’s effortless. Victor’s skating has always had that quality, but today it’s highlighted by his smile and his clear enjoyment of the program. The crowd is on its feet and screaming as soon as he lands his final jumping pass, well before even his final spin and finishing pose.

Victor holds the pose for a token second before he breaks out into a bright grin and relaxes. He waves at the audience, taking his bows with grace and a smile. With the amount of gifts they’re going to have to clear off the ice before Yuuri can skate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t even need the extra thirty seconds he’s been granted.

When he spins around enough to meet Yuuri’s eyes Yuuri can’t help the way he crowds into the gate as he opens his arms for Victor.

Yakov grumbles quietly but doesn’t move Yuuri away, and then Victor is there, coming off the ice straight into Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri laughs and wraps his arms around Victor. “You did great,” he says, smiling into Victor’s sweaty hair.

“Thank you, Yuuri!” Victor says, kissing Yuuri’s cheek as he leans back to beam at him. Victor is flushed and sweaty, and his eyes are bright as he grins.

He’s breathtaking.

Yuuri’s completely stunned by him; caught up in Victor’s gravity all he can do is beam back, one hand at his waist (his costume is too tight to grab properly) and their ring hands clasped together between their bodies.

“Oy, Vitya,” Yakov interrupts, tapping Victor’s skate guards against his arm.

“Ah, thank you!” Victor says, taking them with one hand while keeping the other in Yuuri’s.

“Come on,” Yakov says. “Time to get your scores. You’ve done enough kissing and crying for still being rinkside.”

“But Yuuri’s about to go!” Victor says, pulling Yuuri even closer to him. “I have to coach!”

“Yuuri can’t go until your scores are up,” Yakov points out.

Victor stays stubbornly with an arm around Yuuri’s waist. “They can announce the scores with me over here,” he says breezily, waving a hand.

Yakov sighs. “They’ve given Yuuri extra time to get started before he’s penalized because you’re his coach, can’t you do as they ask?”

Victor opens his mouth to argue, but Yuuri gives him a gentle push.

“Go, smile for the cameras,” he says, smiling as Victor turns to look at him. “Then you can come back and watch me pass you in the standings.”

Victor laughs and seems to think about it for a second before nodding in agreement. He gives Yuuri another kiss on the cheek before trailing off after Yakov. Yuuri smiles, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He hasn’t skated yet, but Victor’s return to Worlds had been a huge success, and he’s feeding off the relief and energy. He’s excited to compete against Victor like this, he realizes. He leans against the barrier as he waits for Victor’s score. For once he’s not nervous for them to come back. Maybe because they’re not his own, but mostly because the excellence of Victor’s routine can’t be denied.

The judges seem to agree; it’s a new world record.

Victor beams at the camera and stands to wave at the people in the arena. Yakov pats his shoulder in congratulations. Yuuri’s smiling so hard it’s starting to hurt.

When Victor makes his way back to him, his long trench coat thrown on over his costume, Yuuri finds that he can, in fact, smile even harder.

Victor smiles back at him and takes his hands.

“That score will be hard to beat,” he says, sobering up. There’s no hubris in his voice, Yuuri can tell. He’s speaking as Yuuri’s coach now, not as his competitor. It’s a rather impressive transition.

Yuuri nods, willing his brain to switch over as well. “I don’t have to re-break the record,” he says. “I just need to come close. I can overtake Nikiforov in the Freeskate.”

Victor grins at him. “Your scores are good enough,” he agrees. “You know how to do this.”

“I do.”

“Show me,” Victor says, taking Yuuri’s ring hand in his, pulling it to his mouth to kiss the ring.

Yuuri pulls their clasped hands to his own mouth and kisses Victor’s ring in turn. With one last squeeze as the announcers call his name, he skates out to center ice, taking his starting pose. He kisses his ring, and from the corner of his eye, sees Victor do the same.

Then the music starts and Yuuri swirls his arms, making sure to make eye contact with Victor when he winks. Then he’s off.

By now, the _Eros_ routine fits him better than he ever would have imagined. It’s so easy now, wearing Victor’s costume, using Victor’s choreography to embody that feeling of lust and pleasure. He knows now that the program had always been about him, and while he still can’t remember the banquet, he remembers how he felt watching Victor skate this that first time, he knows intimately what Victor can make him feel like when he touches him. Victor loves him, and Victor thinks that Yuuri is beautiful and sexy and seductive, and so he is, on the ice.

He’s feeling sure, confident, and lands his first triple axel with ease. In fact, he lands everything with ease, even the quadruple flip at the end that he’d touched down on at the GPF and had underrotated at Japanese Nationals. He finishes with his arms wrapped around himself, panting and exhausted but also relieved with his performance. It takes a few seconds for him to hear anything besides his own blood pounding through his ears, but eventually the cheers of the crowd start filtering in and Yuuri takes a few bows, likes a good sport, before turning to face Victor.

Victor’s standing at the edge of the rink, his coat still on over his costume and he’s beaming.

He looks so lovely; with his messy hair and sparkling eyes, that Yuuri maybe skates off the ice a bit too quickly, but it doesn’t matter, because Victor catches him as soon as he’s in reach.

“Yuuri! You did great!” he exclaims, wrapping his arms securely around Yuuri’s waist and kissing the side of his head. Yuuri laughs delightedly, tucking his face into Victor’s neck. He knows his score won’t be good enough to catch Victor and his brand new world record, but it’s definitely good enough to put him near the top.

Victor keeps his arm around Yuuri’s waist all the way to the kiss and cry, where he moves his arm to wrap it around Yuuri’s shoulders instead. “I’m so proud of you,” he says.

Yuuri beams at him in response. He can’t help it; Victor’s good mood in contagious and Yuuri is so, so in love with him.

When the scores come in, they only serve to compliment the mood. They’re more than enough to put Yuuri comfortably into second; closer to Victor in first than Chris in third. Victor whoops and pulls Yuuri into his side, dropping yet another kiss on the top of his head.

He can see Yurio scowling at them from his spot on the ice, clearly not listening to Yakov.

“Davai!” Yuuri shouts at him.

Yurio shoots him one last hard look before taking off for center ice. Yuuri watches as he visibly lets go of his anger as he settles into his starting pose.

Yuuri’s impressed. It’s amazing to see how far Yurio has taken this program since their exhibition in Hasetsu.

“Look at that,” Victor murmurs beside him. “I knew he could find his agape.”

“Like you knew I could find my eros?”

Victor laughs. “I was so confused,” he admits. “There you were, struggling with being sexy, when I knew firsthand what you were like with your shirt undone on a pole.”

Yuuri groans and blushes.

Victor pulls him close. “I was obsessed with the way your body could move,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret. Which is ridiculous, because Victor has just spent a season coaching Yuuri through a routine about his lustful feelings for him.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Yuuri teases, and Victor gasps in mock hurt.

Yuuri giggles, feeling happy and relieved that at least part of it is over now, and that sets off Victor as well. They’re still giggling when they’re shoo’ed out of the kiss and cry by one of the employees, and they retreat back into the athlete’s area to watch the end of Yuri’s performance.

Yuri skates well, well enough to put him in front of Chris and within striking distance of both Yuuri and Victor. Otabek follows him, and ends up behind Yuri by just over a hundredth of a point; one of the smallest margins Yuuri’s ever seen. And with Chris, JJ, and Phichit all within three points of each other, it’s one of the tightest competitions anyone can remember. Yuuri can feel everyone buzzing about it, even Victor is clearly thriving off the competition, but Yuuri tries very hard not to think about it just yet. With things this close, any mistake at all in the freeskate could mean the difference between gold and finishing off the podium.

Luckily, Victor’s big late season comeback is nearly as interesting as the close scores and draws equal amounts of attention, allowing Yuuri to hang behind Victor and let Victor take the brunt of the press’ attention. They’re happy enough to pass over Yuuri when he looks uncomfortable, especially since Victor is right there and smiling and _talking_. Victor nods, smiles, says his polite “thank you”s all the while ignoring any questions about how their relationship might be interfering with their skating.

The last time they’d given an interview on _that_ Victor had talked the reporters into a stupor with a ten minute speech about how Yuuri had _inspired_ his skating.

Yuuri had appreciated it, and had shown Victor exactly how much once they’d gotten home, but there’s no need for them to go through it again.

It still takes them a long time to get home however, because while Victor will give reporters a brushoff, he always, _always_ , treats his fans kindly.

Nowadays, when Yuuri is tired, Victor will shoot him an apologetic smile about it, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to be too mad. He remembers being Victor’s fan too, after all, awed at how genuinely kind his idol always seemed. He remembers clutching his hard-won posters to his chest and wondering what it might be like to have that smile turned on _him_. He understands the lights in the fans eyes, and he won’t be the one who takes that moment from them.

So Victor will sign an endless parade of papers and posters, smile for cellphones, and even crouch down to be on eye level with the littler ones. Sometimes, if Yuuri is too burnt out, he’ll sneak away and see Victor again later, but he’s excited today, happy, so he sticks around, off to Victor’s side.

People shout out for him too, reach for him and hand him notebooks and spare bits of paper and even his own posters. It’s always slightly overwhelming and surprising that people want pictures with _him_ , that they have posters of Yuuri hanging in their rooms like he used to have of Victor.

When he told Victor this, Victor had smiled and clearly fought back a laugh. “It’s because they think you’re great,” he’d said. “ _I_ think you’re great.”

“But you don’t have posters of me,” Yuuri had pointed out. And then, in the embarrassed silence that followed asked, “ _Do_ you?”

“Yes,” Victor admitted, a blush across his nose and cheeks. “I bought some of your posters after the banquet.”

“Where are they?” Yuuri had asked, fighting his own blush as he looked around the apartment, as if the posters would magically appear on the walls.

“I took them down before you moved in,” Victor said. “I thought it might embarrass you.”

Which had just made Yuuri remember his own franticness tearing down all his posters of Victor when he’d shown up in Hasetsu, and he had burst out laughing, hiding his face in Victor’s chest.

“Are you laughing at me?” Victor had demanded, tone slightly teasing.

Yuuri had shook his head, but it had taken him a long time to get his laughter under control.

That’s what he thinks about as he signs posters and takes photos, and it makes his smiles come easier.

A couple of people ask for photos of them together, and whenever this happens Victor’s smile manages to grow in intensity as he eagerly wraps his arm around Yuuri. Yuuri laughs and leans into him, and after the third time it happens, they stay pressed together, Yuuri leaning against Victor’s side with Victor’s arm around his waist.

He keeps his arm there as they work their way through the crowd, and doesn’t even remove it when they finally, finally, get to the taxi; Victor just slides on in and pulls Yuuri in after him.

Yuuri lands somewhat sideways, and tries to reorient himself without dislodging Victor’s hand as Victor gives the driver the address for their hotel. He eventually manages to get himself sitting upright, half on the seat of the car and half on Victor’s leg.

Victor doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, sliding his hand slowly underneath the hem of Yuuri’s jacket.

 _Oh_. It’s as if Victor’s hand on his bare skin light’s up every nerve in Yuuri’s body and he’s suddenly hyperaware of Victor’s body, pressed up against his own. Hyperaware of the press of Victor’s arm across his back, the curve of it around Yuuri’s waist, the soft motions of Victor’s thumb against the skin of his stomach.

“Victor,” Yuuri says quietly.

Victor gives him a look, eyes dark beneath half-lowered lids. “I’ve wanted you since _Eros_ ,” he admits quietly.

All of a sudden, Yuuri is very warm. “Oh,” he says, aloud.

Victor leans in and Yuuri welcomes his kiss, letting the pressure of Victor’s lips tilt his head back and Victor presses impossibly close, his tongue flicking against the roof of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri grasps Victor’s hair in one hand to steady himself, and because he knows that Victor likes it.

They only break apart when the cab driver clears his throat politely. “We are here,” he says in heavily accented English.

Yuuri can’t help blushing, even as Victor practically pushes him out of the car as he hands the driver a wad of bills. “Thank you,” he says.

The driver nods and Victor practically slams the door shut, hand still on Yuuri, as he steers him into the lobby of the hotel.

There are plenty of people milling, but they ignore them all, heading straight for the elevator.

Unfortunately, they’re not alone, and the ride up is agonizing with Victor pressed against his side and his thumb still rubbing across the skin of Yuuri’s hip. Each second drags as Yuuri’s nerves are strained more and more, as he gets more and more on edge with every intoxicating pass of Victor’s thumb. His only consolation is that Victor seems to be as anxious as he is; the fingers of his spare hand drumming against his leg is what Yuuri knows is one of his few tells.

Finally, finally, the elevator drops them off at their floor and together they make a somewhat wild dash for their room.

Victor’s on him as soon as they’re through the door, his mouth against Yuuri’s as the door closes. Victor groans into the kiss, running his hands up Yuuri’s jacket, blazing a trail of heat up the skin. When they break for breath Victor just nuzzles into the side of Yuuri’s neck, seemingly unwilling to put any space between the two of them.

“Victor!” Yuuri says around a laugh, shoving playfully at his clinging fiancé. “I’m all gross and sweaty,” he protests as Victor licks a stripe up the column of his neck.

“So am I,” Victor points out, walking Yuuri backwards.

“You’re disgusting,” Yuuri says, with no heat behind it; he’d rather have Victor’s tongue do wicked things to him than argue. He tilts his head to the side to give Victor more access, tangling his fingers in Victor’s hair as he does.

Victor nips at Yuuri’s neck, not hard enough to bruise; there’s still the freeskate to go, but hard enough that Yuuri knows he _wants_ to.

Yuuri arches up against him and drops his other hand to grip Victor’s ass.

Victor groans and lifts his head to kiss Yuuri properly. He tastes of sweat and lip gloss, and Yuuri is overwhelmed for a second by the idea that he is kissing _Victor Nikiforov_ , Victor Nikiforov who is fresh off a world record breaking skate, flushed with success, and _horny_ ; they’re pressed together and Yuuri can feel Victor’s erection against his hip. He’s hard for _Yuuri_ and that is always a sort of power trip.

Yuuri moans into Victor’s mouth and writhes helplessly against him. “God, Victor, please,” he babbles, his lips brushing against Victor’s as he speaks because he can’t bear to move too far away.

“What? Tell me what you need, Yuuri. Anything, you can have it.”

Yuuri gasps at that, tightening his grip on both Victor’s hair and his ass. “I don’t know,” he pants. “I don’t know, everything, anything, _Victor_.”

Victor rests his forehead against Yuuri’s, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know if I want to throw you onto the bed or drop to my knees right here,” he says.

“I’ll probably fall over,” Yuuri admits. Just the mental image of Victor dropping to his knees and sucking him off is enough to make him feel dizzy and unsteady.

Victor laughs, his breath ghosting over Yuuri’s lips. “Bed then,” he says, resuming walking Yuuri backwards.

Yuuri goes easily; trusting Victor, following his cues is second nature by now. It’s the easiest thing in the world to let Victor guide him back, to trust him enough to let his body fall when he shoves at his shoulders. Yuuri lands on the bed and he manages to shuffle around enough that he at least gets all his limbs on the bed before Victor climbs on it as well, straddling Yuuri’s hips.

He leans down to kiss Yuuri, deep and wet and by the time he pulls back, Yuuri is panting.

“Vitya,” he murmurs, and Victor smiles brightly at him before ducking his head to kiss at the base of Yuuri’s throat.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all-” Victor kisses in between Yuuri’s pecs, “-fucking-” a kiss at the top of Yuuri’s ribcage “-day.” He ends with a kiss to Yuuri’s bellybutton.

“Ah,” Yuuri says, threading his fingers gently through Victor’s hair. “But you have been. Yakov even complained about it.”

“Not like this I haven’t,” Victor says, before attaching his mouth to Yuuri’s hipbone, right above the waist of his track pants.

Yuuri groans and flexes his fingers in Victor’s hair.

Victor mouths a wet path from the mark he’s left to the trail of hair under Yuuri’s belly button. He noses at the top of Yuuri’s pants before shifting just enough to breathe hotly on the wet patch where the head of Yuuri’s cock is straining against the fabric.

Yuuri moans and his hips buck. “ _Please_ ,” he gasps.

“Don’t worry,” Victor says. He tucks his fingers into the waistband of Yuuri’s pants and tugging. “I fully intend on getting my mouth on your cock.”

Yuuri groans, uncontrollable and deep in his throat. He lifts his legs to make it easier for Victor to pull his pants down before kicking them off, uncaring of what happens to them.

“So gorgeous,” Victor murmurs, eyeing Yuuri’s cock, before he leans forward and takes it all in one smooth move.

Yuuri shouts and promptly loses his mind as Victor swallows around the head of his cock. He whines and thrashes his hips unintentionally. “Sorry, sorry,” he gasps as Victor chokes and pulls back.

Victor shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, voice rough. “Do you wanna fuck my mouth?”

“No,” Yuuri says, shaking his head. As much as he likes fucking Victor’s mouth, his favorite thing is when Victor is in control and takes his apart with just his mouth. He loves it when Victor goes down on him.

Victor smiles at him. “Be good for me,” he says.

Yuuri nods, shivering at the order. He wants to be good. “I’ll be good,” he whispers.

Victor grin turns sharp and he nips at Yuuri’s hipbone before returning to his cock.

Yuuri lets out a moan of gratitude before he can stop the noise. They’re in a hotel, the walls are thin, and he needs to be _quiet_. But it’s so difficult when it’s like this, Victor’s throat fluttering around his cock as he deep throats him. Yuuri wants to shout his pleasure to the world, because Victor Nikiforov is even better at giving head than he is at figure skating, and that’s a fact that will never cease to overwhelm Yuuri every single time he demonstrates it.

He bites his lip to hold back a moan when Victor pulls off enough to flick his tongue under the head of Yuuri’s cock. Chokes on a long, deep groan when Victor slides all the way back down again, the tip of his nose brushing Yuuri’s pubes. Loses control of a whine when Victor swallows around him.

Then Victor’s hands come into play, one of them moving to play with Yuuri’s balls, and Yuuri does scream then, unable to stop it until he hears it.

He swears, feeling hot and out of control as he grabs a pillow to press over his face to muffle his yells.

Victor pulls off his cock and Yuuri’s next whine is even higher. “No,” he says, pulling the pillow away. “I like watching you.”

“I’ll be too loud,” Yuuri protests. “You know I will.”

Victor considers him, finger tapping at his chin and his eyes glinting. “Do you want a gag?”

“Did you bring one?” Yuuri asks, a shock of heat passing through him.

Victor shakes his head, but he reaches up and gently puts one of his palms over Yuuri’s mouth. He takes one of Yuuri’s hands and guides it to his own wrist. “Let go of my wrist if you can’t breathe,” he says, “or if you want me to let go. Okay?”

Yuuri wraps his fingers securely around Victor’s wrist and nods.

Victor grins at him and slides back down Yuuri’s body, immediately deep throating him again.

This time, Yuuri shout is muffled by Victor’s hand. He tightens his fingers around Victor’s wrist and winds the fingers of the hand he has in his hair tighter.

Victor hums around Yuuri’s cock as he pulls back to suck at just the head.

Yuuri trembles with the effort of keeping his hips still. Victor’s mouth is hot and wet, and Yuuri instinctively wants to fuck into the tight suction. When he glances down he can see that Victor is watching him, looking up at Yuuri through his bangs. Victor flicks his tongue and Yuuri’s groan is lost into his hand as his hips buck.

Victor pulls off again and this time Yuuri growls.

“Patience, my Yuuri,” Victor soothes.

Yuuri just yanks at his hair in response.

Victor grins at him and then nuzzles Yuuri’s belly, peppering soft brushes of lips, hard sucking kisses, and sharp little nips all over it.

Yuuri squirms beneath him, making whining noises into Victor’s hand. _Tease_ , he wants to say, but instead he lets go of Victor’s hair in order to bat playfully at his head.

Victor giggles into Yuuri’s skin. “Don’t you trust me?” he murmurs. “Don’t I always let you come in my mouth?”

Yuuri so, so desperately wants to thrust his hips in annoyance, but he’d promised Victor that he’d be good, and Victor is right; when Victor dedicates himself to giving Yuuri a blow job the orgasms are always spectacular. So instead he presses a kiss to Victor’s palm and inhales deeply through his nose, telling his body to relax.

Victor smiles at him and lays a few gentle kisses before switching tracks and sucking a couple more bruises into the soft skin of Yuuri’s groin. When he’s apparently satisfied, he dips back, nuzzling at Yuuri’s balls.

Yuuri’s grip on Victor’s wrist tightens, probably to the point of bruising. If Victor is going to rim him, Yuuri won’t be able to stay quiet enough, he knows. He flails his free hand around a bit, ending up swatting at Victor’s ear mostly.

Victor trails his mouth back up and Yuuri relaxes the death grip he has on Victor’s wrist.

“I’ve got you,” Victor says, lips just barely brushing Yuuri’s cock as he settles his free hand on Yuuri’s hips. Then he’s properly got his mouth on Yuuri’s cock and Yuuri loses the next few minutes to a blur of sensations, building and building until he’s tightening his grip on both Victor’s wrist and hair in warning and coming down his throat.

When he comes back into himself, Victor is kissing his way up his torso, soft, barely there presses of lips.

Yuuri finally notices that Victor has dropped his hand from his mouth, and he takes to opportunity to breathlessly gasp his name and then Victor’s lips are on his.

Yuuri kisses back lazily, unable to summon enough energy to match the urgency he can sense from Victor.

“Mm,” Yuuri hums happily when the kiss breaks, running his hand down Victor’s bare chest.

Victor moans at the petting, arching into the touch.

Yuuri lets his hand trail lower until he’s dipping his fingers past the waistband of Victor’s trackpants, the wet head of Victor’s cock straining against it.

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps. On either side of Yuuri’s torso, his arms tremble.

Yuuri shoves the pants far enough down to free Victor’s cock before he properly wraps his hand around Victor and starts stroking.

“ _Ah_ , Yuuri,” Victor groans. “It’s…it’s not gonna take much.”

“Good,” Yuuri says, tightening his grip and speeding up his hand. The idea that Victor had gotten this close just from getting Yuuri off fills Yuuri with something warm and fond and he wants to give that back to Victor. “Come for me, Vitya.”

He uses just a slight scrape of nail across the crown of Victor’s cock, and then Victor does, beautiful as his mouth falls open and his body trembles as he thrusts into Yuuri’s grip, perfectly in rhythm with Yuuri’s pulls. When his body has stopped shaking with aftershocks he collapses, carefully aiming to fall to Yuuri’s side.

“Oof,” he says, burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri smiles and runs the fingers of his clean hand through Victor’s hair. “Thank you,” he says.

Victor picks his head up and smiles. “My sweet Yuuri,” he says. “You’re very welcome.”

Yuuri can feel himself blushing and Victor pecks him on the cheek, right over the hot blush.

Yuuri turns his head enough to bump his nose against Victor’s head.

Victor laughs and tilts his head, leaving a bunch of short, sweet, sloppy kisses all over Yuuri’s face.

“Vitya!” Yuuri says, unable to keep back a giggle.

“ _Yuu_ ri,” Victor returns, still dropping kisses everywhere except Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri continues laughing, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck, heedless of his dirty hand. They’ll have to shower anyways. He finally manages to capture Victor’s lips in a proper kiss. It’s lazy and soft and warm, and lasts a long time.

It’s a while before they get a chance to shower.


	2. Freeskate!

_And now the final group of skaters is taking the ice for warm-up. And this is one interesting group of skaters, isn’t it?_

_Yes, it is indeed. All six of these men are capable of huge scores in the freeskate, and with a field like this one, there is no room for error._

_Right. Skating first after the warm-up, and in sixth place after the short program is Canada’s Jean-Jacques LeRoy._

_He was a favorite coming into this event and he’s had a good season, getting gold at Canada’s nationals, Skate America, and the Rostelecom Cup. He also won a bronze medal at the Grand Prix Final and just barely missed the podium at Four Continents._

_Yeah, although he’s struggled a bit since the Grand Prix series, he says he’s struggled with nerves and the pressure placed upon him. He made a few mistakes in his short program, and that’s put him just a few points behind last year’s silver medalist, Switzerland’s Christophe Giacometti._

_Giacometti’s a strong skater, and known for peaking at Worlds. I think he has a real shot at the podium, even if he’s a bit far from the gold._

_And he’s signature jump is the quadruple lutz, the hardest jump any skaters here tonight will attempt. Those added difficulty points should help him if he executes all his jumps to the degree he’s capable of. And he’s less than a point behind Kazakhstan’s Otabek Altin, currently in fourth place._

_A dark horse in the Grand Prix series, Altin was one of the first to qualify and just barely missed the podium at the final. He’s skated consistently all season, nabbing a silver at Four Continents._

_He won the bronze medal at this event last year, and I think Altin also has a good chance at the podium tonight. He’s been getting better and better, and with his consistency, we can definitely expect a spectacular skate from him._

_And he’s practically tied with Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian sixteen year-old, fresh off a Grand Prix victory._

_This is Plisetsky’s first year as a Senior and he’s already been making waves. In addition to being the youngest gold medalist ever at the Grand Prix Final, until just last night, he was the world record holder in the short program. Earlier in the season he mentioned that only a lack of experience in the senior level was holding him back, but he seems to have adjusted quite well to the increased pressure, after winning the Grand Prix Final he went on to win silver at both Russian Nationals and at Europeans._

_He finished behind his countryman, the legendary Victor Nikiforov in both of those events. The current leader, Nikiforov is the reigning champion and the favorite to win here tonight._

_You say he’s the favorite, but Nikiforov’s actually been somewhat of a surprise here, after taking the first half of this season off to coach a rival skater; Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki. There were doubts about his ability to return to competition, especially when he announced his plans to continue to coach Katsuki, but I’d say his gold medals at Russian Nationals and the European Championships have silenced much of that talk._

_This is, of course, the first time he will be facing Katsuki directly in a competition. Katsuki’s the world record holder in the freeskate, and there is a good chance he could pass his coach and claim gold here._

_He’s had an amazing comeback this season after a disappointing Grand Prix Final last year, and a disappointing Nationals performance, he didn’t even qualify for last year’s Worlds, but he’s here now with a silver from the Grand Prix Final, a world record, and gold from both Japanese Nationals and Four Continents._

_Yeah, it really looks like that coaching change has done wonders for him and it’s been great to see his increased confidence this season._

_You mention his coach, Victor Nikiforov, and there they are on the ice, talking to one another._

_Conversation between skaters is very rare in the warm-up, almost unheard of._

_Well, we know that Nikiforov and Katsuki aren’t only competitors. In addition to being a coach/student pair, they’re also a romantic couple._

_They do manage to keep it professional when they’re at competition together though, mostly. That kiss at the Cup of China was quite the surprise._

_And that’s the warm-up. We’ve got quite the competition ahead of us._

* * *

Yuuri watches Victor. He’s running through bits of his program down the length of the hallway, but they’re rushed and ragged, unconnected. Yuuri frowns.

Victor stops in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders. He bounces in place a few times, as if to burn off extra energy.

Victor is _nervous_ , Yuuri realizes with surprise.

Still in the middle of the hallway, Victor stops his bouncing and drops his head backwards, eyes shut tight.

Yuuri goes up to him, making sure to take audible steps. “Victor?” he says once he’s close.

“Yuuri!” Victor says. His smile seems genuine, but there’s a cheeriness to his tone that doesn’t match his demeanor. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be ignoring you.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine!” Victor says. His smile is bright but Yuuri frowns.

“Talk to me,” he says, taking Victor’s hand.

Victor’s grin fades. “I don’t want you to be worrying about me,” he says firmly.

“I’ll be worrying _more_ if you don’t talk to me about it.”

“It’s stupid,” Victor says.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, firm. He takes their joined hands and places them over his heart. “Don’t you think I of all people will understand?”

Victor squeezes his hand. “If I fuck up tonight my career is over. No, listen to me-” he says when Yuuri opens his mouth to object. “This is the first time in years that I have to earn my place on the podium. Before, even if I messed up, I knew people were gonna see it as a fluke. But here...if I mess up now people are gonna say that I’ve lost it, that I don’t have the skill, that taking a vacation has ruined me.”

“You just broke a world record,” Yuuri says, confused. “You’ve gotten gold in every event since you’ve come back why-”

“It’s the finish that matters,” Victor says. “I guess I just forgot what this kind of pressure felt like.”

Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand in return. “Then I guess you just have to prove that your skating is better than ever.”

Victor grins at him. “And you would know, yes?”

Yuuri smiles back at him. “Yes.”

Victor rests his forehead against Yuuri’s. They just breathe together for several long moments before Victor pulls back. Not far, but far enough that their faces aren’t pressed together.

“How are you feeling? Honestly, as your coach, tell me how you’re doing.”

“Better now that I know you’re okay,” Yuuri says, mostly honest. Now that he’s not distracted by worrying about Victor, he is starting to get anxious.

Victor gives Yuuri a look that lets Yuuri know he can see through him, but he doesn’t say anything and instead takes Yuuri’s hand and leads him aside to stretch together. They’re the last two skaters which means the challenge is keeping themselves loose while everyone else skates. Victor is quiet, either still wrapped up in his head or giving Yuuri his space, Yuuri isn’t sure. But it’s nice, comfortable, and even though he’s not saying anything Victor is constantly touching Yuuri, even if it’s just a brush of fingertips. When Yuuri starts getting fidgety, Victor pulls him close and puts his headphones in his ears to block the sound.

Yuuri smiles nervously at him and Victor squeezes his fingers.

Victor is watching Chris skate on the monitor while Yuuri rests his head on his shoulder and very deliberately does not pay attention to the screen when Yurio stomps up. “So are you two losers gonna watch me skate or what?” he asks, his arms folded across his chest.

Yuuri takes his headphones out, even though Yurio is loud enough to hear through them.

Victor raises his eyebrow. “I’ve been watching everyone,” he says.

“But you could come out and watch,” Yurio insists.

“Yuuri goes right after you,” Victor says. “Of course we’ll be out there.”

“But are you going to _watch_?”

“Why, do you want us too?”

Abruptly Yurio looks embarrassed and he scowls to cover it up. “I don’t care,” he says, not looking at either of them. “Do what you want.” He stomps off, and Victor turns to Yuuri to grin.

“Look at that,” he says. “Little Yuri wants our approval.”

Yuuri grins back at him. “We should watch him,” he says.

Chris takes his final pose and the cheers start up. Across the room, Yakov ushers Yurio closer to the entrance and starts whispering in his ear.

Victor stands and offers Yuuri his hand.

Yuuri stands and lets Victor pull him close. “I know you’re nervous,” Victor says.

Yuuri nods against his chest.

“I’ll be there for you when you get off the ice,” Victor promises.

“I know you will,” Yuuri says, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to be okay, Victor.”

“I know you will,” Victor echoes.

He steps back enough to take Yuuri’s hand. “Let’s go.”

They hover back from the boards as Otabek takes his bows and Yurio skates out onto the ice to prepare.

“Davai!” Yuuri shouts at him.

Yurio’s head snaps up from where he was frowning at the ice to look at him.

Victor waves at him and shouts, “Good luck!”

Yurio rolls his eyes at them.

But he seems to settle more into the ice as Yakov starts giving him a last few words.

_And now, on the ice, representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky!_

Yurio skates out to center ice, arms wide. He settles into his starting pose until just after the music starts, and then he’s off. As always, Yuuri’s drawn by the sheer attack Yurio always has when he skates. He’s fast and powerful even as he’s graceful and beautiful to watch.

“He’s come so far,” Yuuri marvels aloud to Victor.

Victor grins at him. “He has,” he agrees.

“I’m proud of him.”

Yurio finishes as strong as he started, even though he’s panting and clearly exhausted as he gets off the ice. Yuuri knows he’ll score well.

He steps onto the ice and takes a deep breath.

He does a lap, focusing on the scrape of his skates on the ice and rush of wind in his ears so he doesn’t think about Yurio’s score, and his own base value, and numbers and points, and just on him and the ice. When he feels more settled, doing a couple single jumps for good measure, he skates back over to Victor, stopping at the boards.

“Hey,” Victor says quietly.

Yuuri takes another deep breath and looks at him, gripping probably too tightly at the boards.

“You have the world record in the free,” Victor reminds him. “But you don’t need to match it to win.”

Yuuri blinks at him at that.

Victor smiles. “Nikiforov’s personal best with his program isn’t anything close to what you can do with yours.”

Instinctively, Yuuri wants to protest, but he doesn’t. He just rolls his eyes.

“You owe me five world titles, at least,” Victor continues, grinning. “Go get the first one.”

“Right,” Yuuri says.

Victor takes his hand in his own and brings it to his lips to kiss once more.

Yuuri returns the gesture before he sets off for center ice.

* * *

  _And now, Yuuri Katsuki, of Japan!_

_And he’s had quite the story, hasn’t he? Did incredibly well last year until the freeskate at the Grand Prix Final, where things began to unravel for him; finished last in that event, and then didn’t even qualify for Worlds._

_But there’s a fighter in him, I mean here he is, just one season later, with a world record and a silver medal at the Grand Prix Final, and a gold at the Four Continents. Sitting in second place coming into this freeskate behind only the legendary Victor Nikiforov._

_Nikiforov, of course, also his coach, and the choreographer for this program._

_And his fiancé!_

_Such an interesting pair, aren’t they?_

_They are indeed. And here we go, this is_ Yuri On Ice.

* * *

  _Yuri On Ice_ is a difficult program. Logically, Yuuri knows this. He knows that it’s both technically and artistically demanding, and that’s why he can win with it. The reason he _does_ win with it, he also knows, is that he can make it seem easy. He no longer second-guesses himself when he skates it, and it feels right, it feels _good_ when he does. This is something he made together with Victor. _Eros_ was all Victor, and though Yuuri has added his own touches to it over time, it had started as Victor’s program for himself. _Yuri On Ice_ is _theirs_. And he’s able to skate like he loves it, like he loves Victor.

It goes almost too fast for him, and before he knows it the piano is playing the final notes and he finishes, hand pointing right at Victor.

Victor has his hands pressed to his chest and is smiling impossibly wide. He’s crying as he opens his arms wide for Yuuri.

Yuuri resists the temptation to skate straight into his arms, instead bowing at the audience and waving. Someone throws a stuffed poodle that looks almost exactly like Makkachin on the ice and Yuuri skates over to scoop it up. He finds he’s oddly resistant to leave the ice; this program, this season is his love letter to Victor, and leaving means that it’s over. He hugs the poodle to his chest as he smiles through the warring emotions, waving with his free hand.

When he does start making his way over to Victor, Victor’s still waiting for him, right at the edge of the ice. Yuuri doesn’t even have to stop himself properly before Victor’s arms are wrapping around him, holding him tight.

“I’m _so_ proud of you,” he whispers in Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri throws his arm around Victor’s shoulder and tucks his face into the crook of his neck, emotionally overwhelmed. He wishes more than anything that Victor could come to the kiss and cry with him, but he won’t take the risk of Victor losing points for being late to his own program.

Victor lifts him slightly, just enough that Yuuri’s feet leave the ice. He spins them then, gently, until all Victor has to do is step backwards to be on the ice.

“Good luck,” Yuuri tells him, pulling back.

Victor steps back onto the ice and smiles at him, small and intimate and sweet. “Thank you,” he says.

When Yuuri gives him a nod Victor ducks his head and takes a few deep breaths before shaking it. He shifts around on the ice, feeling it under his feet as Yakov starts whispering to him over the boards. When he looks up again, he’s totally focused, completely in competitor mode now.

Yuuri probably shouldn’t find it as hot as he does.

Still hugging the stuffed poodle he heads off for the kiss and cry alone. He’s prepared for it, but it’s still unsettling to sit all by himself while he waits for his scores.

Which is why he’s surprised when a body drops down next to him.

He’s doubly surprised when he looks up and sees,“Yurio!”

Yurio makes a grumpy noise and crosses his arms. “You looked all pathetic moping over here on your own,” he says, not looking at Yuuri. “Why do you look so upset anyways? You didn’t even fuck up for once. Is it just because Victor isn’t here?”

“No,” Yuuri sighs. “I am going to miss the program though.”

Yurio scoffs. “That sappy thing? You know Victor will choreograph you another one for next season, right? I’m sure it’ll be just as sappy.”

Yuuri can’t help smiling, his mood starting to lift. “I’m sure he’ll choreograph one for you too if you ask.”

Yurio opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by the announcer’s voice cutting through the arena.

“The scores for Yuuri Katsuki please.”

Yuuri jumps, stiffening in his seat. There’s a rushing sound in his ears and he tries to force himself to take deep, steady breaths. Yurio shifts, and Yuuri can feel the heat and pressure of his arm resting against Yuuri’s own.

Yuuri smiles, feeling touched by the show of support.

At least until a second later, when the score goes up and Yurio shoves him and says, “Fucker.”

Yuuri blinks at the screen, surprised by the numbers. That’s a personal best. A season’s best. A world record. He glances up, away from the screen and towards the ice, and he sees Victor, still at the boards, grinning at him. When they make eye contact, Victor winks at him.

Yuuri grins back and smiles, standing up enough to bow towards the judges and the crowd in thanks. Then he bows towards Yurio, just to see the boy scowl and blush.

“Come on,” Yurio says, standing grumpily. “I snuck away from the event organizers to come sit with you, they’re gonna want to herd us back now.”

Sure enough, one of the staff members is heading towards them, looking appropriately annoyed.

Yurio walks past her, waving his hand and muttering, “Yeah, yeah.” Yuuri hesitates though, his eyes back on Victor.

“Can’t I watch from here?” he asks her. “Please?”

The staffer briefly looks like she won’t let him, but in the end she smiles. “Sure,” she says. “I’ll let them know.” Then she winks at him. “Wish your husband good luck!” she says, before disappearing.

Yuuri can feel himself blushing.

“Now, representing Russia!” booms throughout the stadium. “Victor Nikiforov!” The crowd goes wild with cheers.

Victor gives Yakov one final nod before pushing off towards center ice. Yuuri crosses over to the boards to stand next to Yakov, who looks sideways at him and huffs. “Can’t the two of you stand to be only half a building apart?”

“No,” Yuuri says as Victor takes his starting position.

Yakov rolls his eyes. “Nice skate, kid,” he says.

It could be somewhat of an understatement for a world record, but Yuuri is used to Yakov’s form of praise by now so he ducks his head with a small smile as Victor’s music starts and he begins.

Victor had told him once that he was drawn to Yuuri because the way he moved made music. But Victor…there’s a story in every movement Victor makes, no matter how miniscule. He tells a story on the ice and the one he tells now is soft and personal, a love story, any way you look at it. Victor’s said plenty that the skate is about his own life, soaring into highs and dipping into lows until his passion had stalled. Then the second half of the skate starts to build again, until he’s able to end it in triumph. The second half is about him falling in love with Yuuri, and finding his life and love.

The first time Yuuri had seen it, it had been Victor marking it through, focusing on choreography and only doing single jumps. Yuuri had cried.

It’s a beautiful program, and Yuuri has no idea how Victor had gotten it ready so quickly.

He really is a genius, and Yuuri knows that he’s been watching with a sappy wide-eyed expression because Yakov subtly elbows him in the side.

Yakov is standing stoic with his arms crossed, but Yuuri knows by now that it means he’s pleased with how Victor is doing. On the ice Victor launches into his quad flip, the last of his quads, and nails it.

“Yes,” Yuuri says quietly, relaxing his hands from fists.

“Hmph,” Yakov says. “The jumps aren’t done.”

There’s only two more jumping passes though, and one of them is a triple axel right out of Victor’s step sequence.

He nails it though, the program flowing beautifully. Yuuri watches, entranced as Victor curves around the ice, dedicating himself to his final footwork, his final spin, until the music comes to a close and Victor finishes.

His final pose is a mirror of Yuuri’s.

Yuuri can tell he’s altered it just slightly enough to be pointing exactly at where Yuuri is.

The thought makes Yuuri’s heart ache with love. He smiles and he can see Victor beaming back at him on the ice. He tilts his head back and raises both arms in relief and satisfaction.

Around them the crowd is going wild, on their feet, cheering for Victor. Yuuri applauds too, unable to help himself.

Victor’s grinning, clearly happy with his performance.

* * *

  _And just a spectacular performance from Victor Nikiforov here tonight._

_And look at that reaction, that’s more excitement from Nikiforov than I can remember seeing in a long time. A flawless performance, really, and_ this _is the skater who has been breaking records and winning golds for over a decade._

_He’s talked about his decisions to take the first half of the season off, struggling without any motivation or inspiration, and it’s funny, as we watched him skate last year, and win all those competitions, you almost couldn’t tell that something was missing. But watching this, this pair of performances here, this year, they’ve obviously got something that last year’s programs didn’t._

_And Nikiforov is a performer, he’s always told stories on the ice, he’s always put on a show for the crowd, and he hid anything that was going wrong with him last year_ so well _. But watching him bloom like this…it’s something special._

_And you say ‘bloom’ as if he’s not here defending a five-year streak of world titles. Do you think he’s done it?_

_I think it will be very, very close between him and Yuuri Katsuki. Even with his lead from the short program, he’ll need to beat his personal best, which, until this year’s Grand Prix Final, was the world record. He’s definitely got himself a medal, but will it be silver or a sixth straight gold?_

* * *

 Victor almost dawdles on the ice after his program, waving and bowing at the crowd who stay on their feet, still cheering. He skates close to the boards on his way off, letting members of the audience reach out to him, shaking his hand, giving him high-fives, shoving a great number of things into his arms. Someone hands him a Team Japan hat, which makes Victor grin even wider and he puts it on his head. Yuuri laughs even as next to him Yakov sighs.

“He knows that the Federation hates him enough already, I know he does,” Yakov grumbles.

But Victor’s headed their way, and he manages to shift all the stuff he’s holding to one arm so he can use the other to grab Yuuri in a hug.

“You did great,” Yuuri says fervently. “You were so wonderful to watch.”

“I felt wonderful,” Victor says in his ear. “I was skating for you.”

“I know,” Yuuri says, hugging him close.

Yakov clears his throat.

Victor pulls back enough to shove some roses into Yakov’s arms and take his skate guards.

“Vitya, please, take that hat off before the RSF leaves me another angry voicemail.”

Victor laughs, but he does take the hat off, setting it on Yuuri’s head instead.

Yuuri reaches up to settle it more securely on his head as he smiles. _I love you_ , he mouths to Victor, just because he has to say it.

Victor leans in and kisses him, remarkably deeply for how quick it is, before following Yakov off.

Yuuri can hear the arena around him going wild, but he finds he doesn’t care.

He has one hand still on the hat, and he clutches the poodle he still holds to his chest, over his heart, as he waits with bated breath for Victor’s scores.

At the kiss and cry he can see Yakov lecturing Victor, and while Victor is nodding along, Yuuri can tell that he’s only half listening. He’s clearly pleased with his own performance, as anyone would be.

But when his scores come back, and Yuuri sees the little “2” pop up next to Victor’s name, his brain stops. He doesn’t know if the crowd is screaming or not, he doesn’t know if _he_ is screaming or not. He clutches the material of the poodle even harder as he stares at the screen.

It wasn’t enough.

Victor’s skate wasn’t enough to catch Yuuri.

There’s a ringing in Yuuri’s ears that’s only broken by Yurio’s loud, distinctive tones. “Oi, Katsudon!” he shouts, shoving at Yuuri’s shoulder. “You might wanna smile for the cameras. You won, you know.”

“I won,” Yuuri echoes, turning to stare at Yurio.

“Yeah, aren’t you happy about it?”

And to Yuuri’s surprise, underneath the numbing shock, he is. “Yes!” he says, and he can feel himself smiling. He reaches out to pull Yurio into a hug, which Yurio accepts even as he grumbles. It’s only a few seconds before a third body joins them, and Yuuri smiles Victor’s arms wrap around them both.

“Yuuri, I’m so proud of you!” Victor cheers.

For some reason the absurdity of _Victor Nikiforov_ congratulating Yuuri for breaking his streak of world titles catches up to Yuuri then, and he can’t help laughing.

“Victor, I think you broke him,” he hears Yurio say from somewhere above as he doubles over in laughter.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s hand is gentle on the back of his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Yuuri says, swallowing more giggles as he straightens up. “It’s just…oh my god, Victor, I _beat_ you!”

“Yes, you did,” Victor says, honest and proud.

Yuuri beams at him. “You skated really well,” he says.

“And you skated even better,” Victor returns, cupping Yuuri’s cheek in his hand.

“Ugh, lemme go if you two’re just gonna make out,” Yurio grumbles.

Victor pulls back from Yuuri enough to smile at him, ruffling his hair.

Yurio makes an angry noise and bats at Victor’s hand.

“Congratulations to you too, Yura,” Victor says.

Yurio crosses his arms and frowns. “I got _third_ ,” he says, like it’s a dirty word.

Victor shrugs at him. “You’re on the podium at your first Worlds. That’s incredible.” That honest, intense look is back in his eyes now, and even Yurio has to sigh and surrender to it.

“Don’t get used to being up that high, either of you,” he says.

Victor laughs delightedly. “Make us earn it,” he tells Yurio before he pulls Yuuri in for a kiss.

Yurio slips out of their mess of arms, muttering, but Yuuri’s attention belongs solely to Victor, who is cupping his face like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched, and kissing him like he’s the sexiest thing he’s ever kissed.

Yuuri can’t do anything but wraps his arms around Victor’s neck and go with it, swaying slightly on his skates.

When Victor pulls back, his eyes are huge and his lips are red and swollen. Yuuri feels a possessive thrill at the sight. Everyone knows it was Yuuri who made him look that way, and Yuuri who’d knocked him off the top of podium.

He grins at him.

Victor grins back. “I couldn’t help myself,” he says.

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri replies easily, still smiling. “You could even do it again if you wanted.”

“Oh?” Victor says, and then he’s leaning back in, taking another kiss, and Yuuri lets Victor’s hands wind beneath his arms and over his chest, lifting him off the ground.

And that…that feels like winning.

It’s almost weird that after that there’s still the medal ceremony to do. Especially because there’s a part of Yuuri that deep down is still twelve and in awe of Victor Nikiforov, and now they’re sharing a podium together, never mind the fact that Yuuri’s standing on top. It almost doesn’t feel real, not until Victor and Yurio climb up on the top with him, both them pressed against his sides, Victor wrapping an arm around his waist and beaming, even Yurio manages a genuine smile, despite his bronze.

They change out of their costumes, and Yuuri goes to put his medal back in its box for safe keeping, but Victor grabs it from him and puts it over his head. “You should wear it,” he says, smiling. “Bask in it.”

Yuuri glances down at the medal, turning it over in his hands. “Okay,” he says.

Victor pulls him close and kisses the top of his head. “I’m proud of you.”

Yuuri can feel himself blushing. “Won’t it seem sort of conceited?” he asks. “Wearing the medal.”

“You’re allowed to be conceited,” Victor says. “You’re officially the best figure skater in the world.”

In the end Yuuri decides to compromise, to play along with Victor and wear the medal back to the hotel, but he keeps it tucked into his track jacket, a weight against his chest the whole way back. Victor lets Yuuri be quiet and withdrawn in his exhaustion, but he holds his hand the whole way back too, their fingers tangled together. He doesn’t say anything until they’re back in their room and then not until after he kisses Yuuri softly.

“How tired are you?” he asks.

“Why?” Yuuri asks, grinning as heat starts going through him. “Are you asking for sex?”

“Not if you’re too tired.”

Yuuri just pulls back enough to gently start pushing Victor backwards. “I don’t know…I’m feeling pretty energized. I did just beat Victor Nikiforov, you know.”

“Mmm, you did,” Victor says, his eyes going dark as he lets Yuuri push him onto the bed. “And I have it on good authority that he rather likes being under you.” He grabs Yuuri’s hips and tugs him on top of him.

Yuuri opens his mouth to tease Victor some more, but Victor instead takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in Yuuri’s mouth and Yuuri loses whatever thought he had.

When Yuuri opens his eyes as they eventually pull apart, Victor’s lips are swollen and red again, and his eyes wide and dark. Yuuri groans at the sight.

“Off,” Victor says, tugging at Yuuri’s jacket.

Yuuri obliges, shucking the jacket and tossing it on the floor. “Yours too,” he says. Victor sits up, shifting Yuuri on his lap as he pulls off his own jacket and then his shirt, tossing them carelessly off to the side.

Yuuri moves to take his medal off, but Victor catches his wrist.

“Leave it on,” he says, voice low.

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat.

Victor lifts the medal and tucks it under Yuuri’s shirt so he can pull the shirt off over Yuuri’s head and smiles.

Yuuri shivers. The medal is warm from being pressed between their bodies, but the idea of being bare before Victor, bare except for the medal Victor helped him win, is heady.

Yuuri’s breath deepens as Victor’s hands go to his hips, pulling his track pants and underwear down.

Victor kisses his stomach as he does so, his long bangs tickling Yuuri’s skin.

“Victor,” Yuuri gasps, hands flexing and clenching on Victor’s shoulders.

Victors lips leave Yuuri’s stomach as he sits back so Yuuri can wiggle his legs out of his pants. “What do you want?” Victor asks. “My mouth? My dick? My ass?”

Yuuri groans. He wants _all of it_. “Come up here,” he says instead of deciding, tugging gently on Victor’s hair.

Victor goes willingly, sticking his tongue back in Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri digs his fingers into Victor’s shoulders and sucks on his tongue. He’ll never tire of this, never tire of kissing Victor and having his breath in his mouth and his body pressed against him. When they break for breath, Victor attaches his mouth to Yuuri’s neck, leaving wet sucking kisses all the down.

Yuuri bucks up against him and Victor _bites_. It’s brief but Yuuri still shouts and bucks his hips up harder.

Victor groans and they get a rhythm going, rocking against each other.

“Is this what you want?” Victor asks, panting hotly in Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri’s about to say “yes”, but then he stops himself. “No,” he gasps. “More.”

He can feel Victor grin against his skin. “Harder?” Victor offers. “Faster?”

“Inside,” Yuuri pants.

Victor kisses him again for that, a messy kiss full of teeth and tongue before he pulls back to grab supplies off the nightstand.

Yuuri sits fully up and runs his hands over Victor’s shoulders and down his arms, taking his fill of warm skin and firm muscle. He puts his mouth on Victor’s collarbone and leaves a trail of kisses.

Victor goes pliant and lets Yuuri do what he want; slowly kissing down Victor’s chest, making him tremble.

When Yuuri pushes lightly at him Victor falls backwards gracefully and easily, pulling Yuuri down on top of him. His gold medal swings with the motion, thumping lightly against Yuuri’s chest before dangling between them.

“What do you want, Vitya?” Yuuri asks.

“Whatever you want,” Victor says, but his eyes flick down to look at the medal swinging between them.

Yuuri can’t help grinning. “It’s not yours this time,” he says lowly, fingering the medal.

Victor nods. “I know. I’m proud of you. I’m happy for you. It’s not that.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought that it was. “I know it’s not,” he assures him. “But you like looking at it.”

“I like looking at it on _you_.”

Yuuri smiles. “I’m gonna ride you,” he decides. “That way you can look at both me _and_ my medal.”

The way Victor shivers lets Yuuri know that yes, this is what he wants.

Yuuri grabs for the tube of lube still in Victor’s hand, but Victor clutches it to his chest.

“I wanna do it,” he says, just a hint of a pout in his face and voice.

Yuuri bites down a giggle. “Then do it already,” he says.

“Mmm, you’re bratty tonight,” Victor teases gently, leaning up to nip at Yuuri’s throat as he opens the lube and coats his fingers.

“I, _aaaah_ , I won the gold medal at worlds,” Yuuri says as Victor slides one finger into his ass. “I’m entitled.”

Victor makes an agreeable sounding hum against the skin of Yuuri’s throat, punctuating it with a sharp nip. Yuuri inhales sharply, and any further witty repartee he could have come up with flees his head at the stretch of another finger. “Yes, Vitya,” he gasps instead, rolling his hips in time with Victor’s fingers.

“Good?” Victor teases, pulling back enough to grin at Yuuri.

Yuuri makes a face at him and fucks himself more firmly on Victor’s fingers.

“My needy boy,” Victor says, grin sharpening as he spreads his fingers further apart, stretching Yuuri. “Do you want another finger?” He doesn’t give Yuuri a chance to answer though, slipping his third finger in alongside the previous two.

Yuuri groans and purposefully clenches around Victor’s fingers. He’s more than ready for this.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Victor breathes, his voice almost reverent as he leans forward to kiss Yuuri.

Yuuri makes sure to kiss him back, it’s sloppy and wet but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is that Victor is now crooking his fingers rhythmically, pressing against Yuuri’s prostate, and making Yuuri’s whole body tremble. Yuuri digs his fingers into Victor’s shoulders and throws his head back, riding Victor’s fingers. He loses himself in the feeling as Victor alternates between hitting his prostate and teasing him.

Beneath him, Victor’s eyes are huge and dark as he watches Yuuri with absolute focus. His free hand roams up and down Yuuri’s side, tugging at his medal when it goes across his chest.

“Lay back,” Yuuri orders, using the grip he has on Victor’s shoulders to push him gently backwards again.

Victor goes, and Yuuri lifts up enough that his fingers slip out. With his clean hand Victor grabs the condom he’d tossed on the bed earlier and gives it to Yuuri.

Yuuri grins at him and shifts backwards until he’s sitting over Victor’s knees.

Victor groans as soon as Yuuri touches his cock, and Yuuri can’t help giving it several firm pulls as Victor fucks up into his fist.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Victor gasps, stilling his hips with what he makes seem like extraordinary effort.

Yuuri thumbs at the head of Victor’s cock just to see his hips twitch and watch as a bit of precum spills from it. Yuuri feels his own dick twitch at the sight.

Yuuri lets go of Victor’s dick to open the condom packet, kissing him to make up for it. It’s easy by now to roll the condom over Victor’s cock.

Victor drops one of his hands to tangle with Yuuri’s, both of them holding the base of his cock, and his other hand drops from Yuuri’s medal to his hip, helping hold him steady as Yuuri sinks down on Victor’s cock.

They both groan as he does, Victor’s fingers tightening on Yuuri’s hip. It feels like he’ll leave bruises, and Yuuri wants it, wants Victor’s marks and his bruises and his dick and everything Victor will give him.

Yuuri’s hips meet Victor’s and he shudders around Victor’s cock, overwhelmed and full. Beneath him, Victor is staying perfectly still, obviously trying to control himself even as the hand he has on Yuuri’s hip flexes and tightens rhythmically.

Yuuri reaches back and Victor obligingly brings his knees up high enough that Yuuri can both rest against them and curl his hand around Victor’s thigh as a brace as he lifts himself up again.

Victor groans again, thrashing his head when Yuuri stops with just the head of his cock in him. The hand not on Yuuri’s hip is now grasping hard at the bedsheets, his knuckles white.

Yuuri will never get used to how unbelievably sexy Victor is like this; messy and undone and desperate.

He desperately wants to kiss Victor, but like this he’s too far above him to reach, so he drops his weight down and leans forward, the medal between them tapping against Victor’s chest as he does.

Victor rewards him with a broken kind of moan and he uses his abs to lift himself high enough to meet Yuri in a messy kiss. “Yes,” he pants into Yuuri’s mouth. “Like that. Fuck me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri does, lifting high enough that he’s just out reach of Victor’s mouth and holding for a few seconds before slamming back down.

Victor bites at his lips when he’s close enough and Yuuri draws away again, setting a rhythm of slow rises, holding, and then quick drops down. He throws his head back and loses himself in it, in the feel of Victor’s cock stretching him, the sound of Victor’s breathless noises beneath him, the thump of the gold medal against his chest as he bounces, the heat that builds between them, the rush of his own blood in his ears, the sensation of Victor’s fingertips pressing bruises into his hip where he’s still gripping it, not trying to control Yuuri at all, just holding onto him.

His eyes flutter back open again when Victor starts murmuring, letting go of the sheets beneath him to run his hand up and down Yuuri’s torso, just teasing at his cock, pausing and tugging over the gold medal. “So beautiful, my Yuuri,” he’s saying. “So hot, do you even know? The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It’s flattery, plain and simple, no matter how much Victor means it, he’s biased but Yuuri takes it gratefully, slamming himself down again, choking on a whine.

“Just like that, you’re so good,” Victor praises. “You’re so gorgeous, Yuuri, I could look at you forever.”

Yuuri doesn’t blush only because he’s already so flushed from the sex. Instead he pants and lifts himself up, barely pausing before dropping back down again.

Victor moans and tosses his head, silver hair clinging to the bed beneath him.

“Shh,” Yuuri admonishes, even as the words he’d planned end up in a choking noise when Victor rocks his hips up.

They’d been so careful to be quiet last night but Yuuri can’t help the unconscious noises he makes as they fall into a rhythm together, Victor thrusting up to meet Yuuri’s hips every time he starts to go down. Yuuri sobs out a noise of pure pleasure as it happens, slumping forward to brace his hands against Victor’s chest so he can move faster.

His thighs are burning; from the skating, from the sex, but it’s so, so worth it to watch Victor come apart beneath him, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. Yuuri’s gold medal swings as he rides Victor, tapping against his chest after every stroke downwards.

Victor’s eyes flick between Yuuri’s face, his medal, and his cock, still untouched but it hardly matters, Yuuri is so close regardless.

As if he can read his mind, Victor’s hand moves to grab at Yuuri’s cock, but Yuuri bats it away. “Don’t need it,” he pants. “Wanna come from just your cock.”

Victor groans, loud and long and deep. “Yes,” he says, rocking his hips up hard to meet Yuuri’s next stroke.

Yuuri whines and clenches around him.

“My Yuuri,” Victor says, wrapping his hand in the ribbon around Yuuri’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss as he snaps his hips up.

Yuuri whines and comes in a white hot rush, vaguely aware that he’s writhing on Victor’s dick and that Victor snaps his hips up twice more, arrhythmic and desperate before crying out into Yuuri’s shoulder.

It takes Yuuri a long time to come down, but when he does Victor’s hips are still making little hitching motions with his aftershocks. His face is still buried in Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri can feel his hot, wet breath against his skin. It’s rather nice actually and he hums, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair.

Victor’s hand is still wrapped around Yuuri’s medal, and he feels Victor’s fingers twitch against his chest in response.

Yuuri shifts, and Victor makes a choked, garbled noise before tensing into absolute stillness, tense enough that Yuuri can feel the slight shaking of his muscles.

“Victor, are you okay?” he asks. He goes to move so he can see Victor’s face or pull off, but Victor’s hands instead tighten on Yuuri’s hips.

“ _Please_ ,” he says, voice ragged.

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees, aiming for a soothing tone even though he doesn’t quite understand.

Victor groans and starts moving his hips again. Fucking up into Yuuri hard several times before he shouts, the sound of it barely muffled by Yuuri’s shoulder as he comes a second time.

When Victor’s heavy breaths start coming in airy gasps and Yuuri can feel him trembling he lifts himself off of Victor, moving gently to the side.

Victor makes a low sound and throws his arm over his face, his chest and stomach heaving with his irregular breaths.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says gently, placing his fingers along Victor’s jaw. “Are you alright?”

Victor takes several large gasps of air before responding. “I’m fine,” he manages eventually, voice still shaky. “Overwhelmed.”

“Good overwhelmed?”

Victor huffs a laugh and moves his arm so he can look at Yuuri. “Very good,” he says, starting to settle down. “I’ve never come twice before, not like that.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, pleased and warm from it.

Victor smiles at him. It’s nothing like his usual wide grins or happy smiles that he gives out so easily. This is one Yuuri’s only ever seen directed at him, smaller and subtler than Victor’s usual smiles but somehow sunnier. “You’re fantastic, my love,” he says.

Yuuri smiles and kisses Victor’s cheek.

Since Victor seems to have become one with the bed, Yuuri takes care of cleaning them both up, being especially gentle after Victor hisses when he pulls off the condom.

“Sorry,” Victor says, before Yuuri has a chance to. “We should have stopped.”

Yuuri looks at him, confused, until he realizes that Victor is grimacing at the condom.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri assures him, tying it off and tossing it away.

“Not as safe,” Victor murmurs.

Yuuri shrugs. They’re both clean and monogamous, but condoms make clean up easy enough that Yuuri can crawl right back into bed with Victor and snuggle into his side.

He drops a kiss on Victor’s shoulder and Victor lifts a hand to his hair, stroking through it gently. They lie there for a long while, sweaty and sticky and exhausted. Eventually though the dried cum on his chest starts to itch and with a sigh, Yuuri heaves himself out of bed to get a washcloth.

Victor makes a questioning noise and flops a hand out after him.

“Gotta clean up,” Yuuri says.

“Mmm,” Victor agrees. “Shower?” He gives Yuuri a crooked, hopeful smile.

“You’re insatiable,” Yuuri says. “Didn’t you just come twice?”

Victor shrugs and continues to grin at him.

“You’re not even standing up,” Yuuri points out, “how are you gonna take a shower?”

“You can hold me,” Victor says, raising his arms.

Yuuri grabs one and tugs. “ _No_ ,” he whines. “You’re heavy.”

Victor laughs. “Fine then, at least help an old man up.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes but grabs one of Victor’s arms and heaves.

Victor rolls out of bed, landing awkwardly on his feet and stumbling a little.

Yuuri shifts his grip to hold one of his hands and they stumble together on shaky legs to the bathroom. Yuuri pauses, glimpsing himself in the mirror. He definitely has the look of someone who has just been very well fucked; his hair is stuck together in clumps of sweat, his cheeks are still red and flushed, his lips swollen. It looks…good on him, he thinks and then sees the unmistakable line of bruises dotting his collar bone, and can’t help giggling.

“What?” Victor asks, leaning against his shoulder.

Yuuri pokes at one of the bruises. “Victor, there’s still the exhibition skate.”

Victor shifts and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist, nuzzling the bruises. “I’ll do your makeup, make sure they’re all covered,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss over one of them.

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees easily, leaning back into Victor’s hold. Victor usually does his makeup anyways. Yuuri rather likes having Victor’s attention focused on him so intently and he knows that Victor likes taking care of him.

Victor smiles at Yuuri in the mirror and starts swaying them gently.

He looks equally as well fucked as Yuuri, fine silver hair in disarray and tangled, his eyes soft and lazy, lips prominent. He’s got his own marks too; a dark bruise high on his neck and a twin on his sternum, neither of which Yuuri properly remembers leaving.

“Well, they match your exhibition theme, I guess,” Yuuri says, and Victor laughs softly.

“That they do.” Victor grins. “People are gonna be surprised tomorrow.”


End file.
